Skirt at the End of the Tunnel
by Touta Matsuda
Summary: "Monsters I get, humans are just crazy." The hunt is normal, the person in the short skirt is not. Castiel looks good in a frilly pair of panties. DeanxCas
1. The Encounter

Just a regular gig, hunting a shifter in a local college until Dean picks up a hot piece of ass in a mini skirt unlike any before. Castiel looks great in a pair of frilly panties. DeanxCas

"Well whatever, I still found less than squat," Dean griped into his cell phone, pacing down the crowded corridors of the college. Some unheard bell went and suddenly the hall was flooded, at least high schools gave you a little bit of a warning. "Fine, follow up that lead but I'm done for today, there's nothing freaking here-"

Dean heard the familiar sound of books falling to the floor, followed by a curt shout of "Watch it!"

Turning to inspect the incident, Dean found a single individual left to pick up their books. This single individual had one of the most attractive pair of legs Dean had seen in a while. He followed them up from the slender ankles past the taut calves and thighs, Dean couldn't help but tilt to the side to get a glimpse up the short skirt as she bent down to retrieve her belongings. Dean caught sight of a nicely fitting pair of panties that were just the tell-tale sign of intentional showing off.

With a few quick strides down the hall, Dean was crouched next to the victimized student, handing over the small pencil kit he retrieved from the floor, "I believe this belongs to you." Dean smiled as he spoke, his voice laden with an unspoken desire.

The individual in question looked up from the floor to the pencil kit, and then to meet Dean's gaze. Dean was stunned by the contrasting black hair and sharp ice-blue eyes. They were like nothing he'd ever seen, wide and staring, yet somehow teasing and so very enticing. And Dean didn't miss the way they seemed to light up after registering the man to them.

"Thank you," Cas took the kit from Dean, coyly looking away before quickly turning back. "You're not a student here, are you?" Cas looked Dean over from head to toe, sharp hazel-green eyes behind long lashes, and a solid frame bound in a neat suit.

Dean shook his head, "Haven't found what I'm looking for here." He pulled out his badge and flashed it to Cas, smirking at the received reaction –everyone loved the lawman, but only in a Hollywood sense. "Special Agent Dean Mason, nice to meet you." A patented Dean Winchester smile couple with a wink, "And you are?"

Cas smirked confidently, knowing he had Dean following along on a string. The very attractive agent was one hell of a catch, and his schoolwork could wait. "My name's Castiel. Are you here to investigate those murders on campus last week?"

"Yeah, but we're not turning up much yet. Say," Dean raised an eyebrow inquisitively, "Why are you calling them murders? The police are writing them off as accidents." Dean's life of work nearly overrode his aching (and somewhat misplaced) desire –almost.

"Seriously?" Cas acted as though the answer were obvious, "There's just no way those were accidents. It's a serial killer, right?"

Dean couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips, "Right, something like that. You know, if you're really interested, we could talk a little more over lunch. What do you say?" Dean's expression was just shy of an additional eye brow wiggle. Things were going really well, and while the conversation still lingered on his job, his mind was nowhere near it.

Cas' eyes fell to half-lidded, a smile creeping onto his face, which was now suspiciously close to Dean's own. Cas' cheek brushed past Dean's as he moved to whisper in his ear, "I'd really like that."

Dean didn't mind Cas' lower voice, it just worked for some chicks. And while Cas' relatively flat chest seemed a little odd, Dean had always been more of an 'ass-man' anyhow, and that was one fine ass. "I'm parked just outside," Dean offered a hand and Cas latched to his side.

As they exited the building, Cas went on excitedly about Dean's line of work, expressing his enticement with the subject matter, the adventure and lack of normalcy. Dean could only hid a bitter laugh, if Cas only knew the half of it. Dean's hand dropped a little lower on Cas' back and he took another assessment, checking to see if he was still in the bounds of their current interaction. He received a lustful smile from the smaller man next to him, encouragement enough to drop his hand to cup that fine ass.

"Dean, I'm glad you're here," Sam was speed walking, a man on a mission and all business. Before Sam could continue with whatever it was he had found, he caught sight of Dean's partner. "Dean," His voice was terse, the noun curtly spat out –the bitch face firmly in place, "We're _working_."

"No," Dean corrected, "You're working. With a bunch of dead-ends, I might add. I'm going out for food."

"With..." Sam's though trailed off while he took in the sight of Cas, slender, with fair hips –but not curvy, at least, not curvy enough. The set of his jaw and the squared shoulders tipped Sam off, and he had to do a complete double-take of the situation.

"Cas," Dean offered, not realizing Sam wasn't trailing off for lack of name.

Sam choked back a laugh, Dean hadn't a clue. His face hardened again, "Dean, you really should get back to work. People are dying." If Dean just listened to him, and got back to work, he wouldn't have to figure out the hard way that this wasn't a chick on his arm, but rather a boy in a skirt.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean waved him off. "Catch you later."


	2. The Discovery

Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it was very much appreciated. To clear some things up: this is a real universe mixed with an AU, it'll make sense at the end of it. Yes, Cas is a dude, yes he's in a skirt, and no, Dean can't tell the difference –clean shaven Cas is admittedly somewhat androgynous.

The ride back to the motel was anything but silent –Cas loved hearing about Dean's 'FBI' cases. Dean abbreviated stories of his past hunts to their bare bones, but that seemed to be more than enough for Cas, who eagerly filled in the details with Hollywood clichés of adventure. Dean couldn't help but wonder if Cas was a drama student in college. He also couldn't help but wonder why someone would be picking on a hot chick in the halls. Dudes usually picked on other dudes –and usually their targets were the truly nerdy and outcast. It seemed so odd, not only that Cas was knocked around, but that no one stepped in sooner to help. Their loss.

Once they were finally to the motel, Dean could hardly focus on the key in the lock as he and Cas exchanged fervent kisses, leaned just as much against the door frame as they were the door itself. As soon as the deadbolt on the shoddy motel door clicked open and the scant door knob turned, the two entwined individuals nearly fell into the room. They stumbled over one another briefly before Dean scooped the smaller boy up into his arms. He was surprised by the weight of him, '_Where the hell is she hiding the extra pounds?_'

Cas took the new position as a golden opportunity to start grinding up against his newfound catch, and what a catch he was. This stoic, seemingly hyper-masculine man of an agent _actually_ picked him up, and eagerly at that. Cas hadn't thought that Dean would be remotely interested, that men in skirts couldn't possibly be his type. If Cas had to have taken a guess, Dean seemed more the dainty blonde with a giant rack in a school girl outfit type. Nevertheless, Cas still found himself off the ground, legs wrapped around the waist of a finely built man, supported by Dean's strong hands on his buttocks. Definitely worth skipping class for.

Dean's eyebrow lifted slowly as his suspicions became more aroused than he was. Was there something down there? It _felt_ like something was down there –but there couldn't be, no way. Dean broke the kiss off, hoping to ask Cas about it. Well, not ask her, but get a better look maybe.

Cas smiled and quickly dropped to the floor, "I'm going to use the washroom to freshen up, I'll be right back." With a wink and a smirk, Cas vanished into the small motel bathroom.

Dean's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a fish out of water, but no words came out. He wanted to say something about it, but he wasn't sure what to say. He was more in denial that he was unsure, but there was just _now way_ he felt what he thought he'd felt.

Resolutely in denial, Dean surveyed the motel room quickly. The curtains were drawn, the 'no cleaning' sign was permanently on the outside of the door –John had taught them that one early on, a lesson he'd supposedly learned the hard way, or so the story goes. Dean quickly made up the bed –no maid typically translated to messy sheets. Dean kicked off his boots and stripped out of his suit jacket and tie, unbuttoning the starch white shirt and loosening the cuffs. What looked better than a man in a suit prepping for sex with a chick fresh from class in her nearly-too-short skirt. If Sam were around there may have been a warning about transitioning from reality to porn, but that didn't bother Dean any.

Cas appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, the lights just flicked off behind him. The frilly pink panties were hooked around his index finger, swung around lazily on display. Dean couldn't help the lust filled smirk that crept onto his face at the sight. Cas strolled across the room, deliberately avoiding Dean's touch as a sort of tease. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, ice blue eyes still locked with Dean's. Cas' hands crept up his bare legs, curving inside his thighs and brushing against the hem of the skirt, creeping it up ever so slightly until-

Dean saw it, and there was no way in hell he was going to un-see it. Cas' hardening erection peered out from that skirt line and Dean was _done_. Capital 'D-O-N-E', done. "WHOA! No no no no no! Put that away!" Dean's hand's shot up to cover his eyes, a futile attempt to save himself from what he'd already seen.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you? You're a dude? Seriously!" Dean tried to lower his arms, keep eye contact, but nothing lower.

"What?" Cas asked, sincerely surprised, "Like you didn't know."

"Like hell I knew! You think I'd have taken you back here if I knew you were a guy?" Dean's face felt flushed, hot with embarrassment. He could feel the heat creeping across his cheeks and tinting the tops of his ears. How could he have not known, seriously, was it really that hard? And Cas hadn't even been trying to hide it.

"You seriously didn't know," Cas' tone changed from one of surprise to one of bitchy awe. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? Well if you like it so much, get a load of this!" Cas lifted his skirt up, nice and high, giving Dean a wonderfully unwanted flashing.

"God! Stop that!"

"Make me!" Cas proclaimed defiantly, repeating the motion a second and third time.

"Ok, that's it! Panties on, oddball, time to get the hell out of my motel room." Dean pointed sternly toward the door, which was apparently open.

"Did I miss something?" Sam snickered, knowing full well what he'd missed.

Dean's arm dropped to his side with dramatized defeat, his eyes narrowed at Sam. Gesturing over toward the bed, where Cas still sat –unmoving, "You knew about this, didn't you? About... THAT," Dean waved his arm over at Cas, indicating to Sam the entire scenario.

"Oh, so I'm a 'that' now, am I?" Cas glowered at Dean, the man was just unbelievable.

Sam just kept laughing, "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. But if you'd just listened to me, and got back to work, this never would have happened Dean."

"Just shut up," Dean sighed, hating Sam to his core at this very moment.

"Oh no!" Sam joked, "Don't let me interrupt, I can just wait outside." Was that smirk a permanent feature on his face? Dean couldn't help but wonder.

"No, we are done. Cas, grab your shit and get out."

"Fine." Cas huffed and slipped his panties back up his finely toned legs and out of sight.

"Dean, I really think you should drive him home." Sam's humour was gone, and that warning expression was creeping onto his face. Dean knew he was only moments away from a full-on bitch face.

"Why should I? He's the freak in a skirt."

"First, he's not a freak –you're an idiot. Second, you're the one who drove him all the way out here, and it's already dark out. And third, you know what's out there." Sam's expression was controlled, his words terse and his brow neatly furrowed.

Dean knew he couldn't argue with Sam's last point, and denying the first two still wouldn't redeem it. "Yeah, yeah I know," Dean droned, acting as though the conversation ended ten minutes ago and was already long boring. "C'mon Cas, let's get you out of here."

Cas paused before reaching the door and turned a sly but curious look toward Dean, "So, what is out there?"


	3. The Hunt

Chapter 3

A/N: The best way to get people to read your old fics is to write new ones –they tend to look at your other stuff too. A lesson well learned. Thank you to all who reviewed, and to those who subscribed, thank you as well.

Arguing with Sam was futile, and the longer Dean tried, the longer 'that' would still be in his motel room. "C'mon Cas, let's get you out of here."

Cas was still hung up on Sam's point number three. Not only was this enough to stop this monstrous bigot in his tracks –cold, but it was also vague beyond all reason. The cryptic message piqued his interest, so Dean wasn't interested in him, that didn't mean he wasn't still working a case. Were they talking about the murderer? Was he outside right now? Well that would be silly, if Sam knew the murderer was outside he wouldn't be in here laughing at his partner. But somewhere out there danger was lurking.

Cas closed the distance between he and Dean, a little too close for Dean's liking. "What's he talking about?" Cas tilted his head back to indicate Sam's previous statement. "What's out there? The murderer?"

"Yeah, something like that." Dean was so done with this kid, "Now can we go?"

"What do you know about him?" Cas asked excitedly, obliging and exiting ahead of Dean, not sparing the extra sway of the hip to accentuate his ass once more.

Dean rolled his eyes. He was watching, but some twisted urge in the back of his mind he was watching, but the fact that Cas still thought he had a chance was just outlandish. "I'm not telling you anything the public doesn't already know. Confidentiality, and all that."

"Aww, you're no fun at all." Cas pouted, having made his way a few feet ahead of Dean.

"Yeah Dean, you're no fun."

Dean spun for a double take. It wasn't Sam, no this sounded like Cas –only it came from _behind_ him. Dean met those ice blue eyes, staring daggers into his own. Dean knew Cas was near the car, there was no way he could've been behind him. "You're the-"

"Shifter? What gave me away?" The Castiel imitation' soft pink lips twisted into a smile seconds before it's brutal blow sent Dean flying across the parking lot.

Dean skittered over the loose pebble on the concrete surface of the lot, finally succeeding in stopping himself after several feet of road burn. Immediately he was pulling himself back up to his feet, no time to lie around in the dirt one what-goes-bump-in-the-night is right here ready to kill you. '_This doesn't make any freaking sense. A shifter's vic is usually dead before the shifter assumes the form_,' Dean puzzled over the MO, but now it didn't matter –that shifter was going to die.

"Cas!" Dean tossed the Impala's keys to confused looking boy. "In the trunk of my car, grab my gun."

Cas caught the keys, fumbling them for a few moments before getting a good grip on them. "Why does he look like me?" Cas managed to squeak out, only the first of his many protests. "And if you're an agent then why is your gun in the trunk?"

The Shifter was already barrelling back in at Dean for round two. No one likes to be hunted, and this Shifter was just as determined to walk away from a corpse today as Dean was. "Shut up and get the gun!"

Dean shouted back, bracing himself for hand-to-hand combat with a vicious supernatural creature. He met the charge with a lowered shoulder, knocking the wind out of the Cas imitator. Dean took the window of opportunity to lay a couple solid hits to his face. A bitter voice in the back of his head asked him if he wasn't sure it was '_her_' face, which for the record was not at all amusing. It only took a couple of flurried seconds of flying fisticuffs before the Shifter gained the upper hand, ending the bout by flipping Dean onto his back on the concrete.

With Dean out of the way, Cas had a golden opportunity to shoot. The Shifter was distracted, Dean was out of the way, the trunk of the Impala was open... and there were over a dozen firearms, machetes, crossbows, and freaky looking talismans. Cas picked up the buckshot, it looked effective, right?

"CAS! Any time now!"

"I don't know!" Cas panicked, he'd never fired a gun before, how was he supposed to figure it out without instructions or anything? He turned the gun on the shifter and tried pulling the trigger –and it didn't budge.

Dean looked up into those smug blue eyes –notedly _stolen_ blue eyes, and waited for what was coming to him. There was no shot, but the shifter's pupils dilated as its limbs dropped just before it fell over Dean unconscious. Dean looked up to see Sam, gripping the motel's fire extinguisher tight, the blunt end of it dripping with what would pass as shifter blood.

"Thanks man," Dean shucked the body off to the side and pulled himself up to his feet, "Now let's kill this son of a bitch." Dean turned back to the Impala, spotted Cas with the buckshot poorly gripped in his hands, safety evidently still on. Dean sighed his frustration and stalked over to the boy. "Look, safety's right here. You want to shoot? Turn it off first."

"Oh," Cas looked down at the gun and flipped the safety off and on and off again. "Like this?" He asked, as he pulled the trigger to test it. The shot rang out through the night, echoing off the thin motel walls and alerting many of the patrons. The spray of the rock salt buck shot hit Sam in the leg, sending him off balance and gripping his knee in pain.

"The fuck?" Dean snatched the gun from Cas, "You just shot my brother!"

"I thought you said he was your partner?"

"I think what you meant to say was 'I'm sorry,'" Dean spat back, deftly switching the safety back on and dropping it in the trunk. Dean grabbed his .45, prepped with silver bullets and took care of the hunt before checking on Sam. They were rock salt rounds, Sam wasn't that bad off.

"How are you doing?" Dean asked, a firm hand jostling Sam's shoulder.

"Could be better, thought you were bringing him home," Sam diverted attention from his shot leg, a true Winchester move –all business in the face of pain. And teasing Dean, but that was a mainstay of life.

"Yeah yeah, you get back inside and out of sight, people are going to come looking for those gun shots." Dean gave Sam a reassuring pat on the leg –the injured one, smiling as he did so. "I'll be back in a bit."

"You suck."

"Love you too, Sammy," Dean called over his shoulder as he walked back over to the Impala. "Alright kiddo, get in the car." Dean pulled the driver's door open with the familiar creak of the door hinges and slammed it shut after him.

Cas hopped in the passenger seat and turned his full attention on Dean, 'You're not FBI, you hunt monsters! You're like Ghostbusters! That's so exciting!"

"It's not exciting and it doesn't matter. Once I get you home it'll be nothing but college and skirts for you." Normally 'skirts' would indicate getting some action, but in this particular situation it was a far more literal description. "Where do you live anyway?"

"With my mom a block north of the school, but my life's _boring_. I've always felt like I should be doing something else, and this monster fighting gig sounds like an adventure. I want to go, take me with you?" Cas was scooted across the bench now, right against Dean's side eyes, sparkling blue eyes pleading up with the man driving him back to his mundane life.

"Are you crazy? I want you out of my car and out of this life. It's not as glamorous as you seem to think. You'll never appreciate my kicking you out but you should." Dean took only a glance at Cas and kept his eyes on the road in front of him.

"But you saved my life. That thing back there, it... it looked like me. It was coming to kill me, right? I need to repay you." Cas' pleading was as relentless as his deep blue eyes, wide and searching, and Dean just couldn't look into their depths.

Dean pulled to a stop, "Look, you don't owe me anything, this is my job. It's always been a thankless one and I'd prefer it stayed that way. Now I'm going to walk you to the door to make sure you get there, and then I'm gone." Dean climbed out of his car, walking around to Cas' door and accompanied him up to the front door.

The door swung open wide, what Dean assumed to be Cas' mother rushed out to greet them. "Oh my goodness Castiel! Where have you been?" She showered hugs and words of love and worry on her son, and Dean couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Why would this kid want to run away to a life of danger and monsters when he had a loving family at home? Once again dean swore up and down that he'd never understand humans.

"Thank you for bringing him home in one piece," Mrs Novak was thanking Dean now, truly grateful.

"It was no problem at all," Dean assured her.

"You should come in for a while, you must be exhausted."

"It's really ok, I should be going." Dean tried to slip out of the gracious offer, there was no need to trouble these people further, and the faster he could get away from that boy-girl skirt wearing thing the better.

"But I insist," She gently took his hand and pulled him up the steps, ushering Castiel inside first. It took a full twenty minutes for Dean to excuse himself. First there was beer, a welcome treat but he'd have to stay and converse until he finished it. And then she brought out the homemade pie, and Dean had no choice but to stay for just a little longer.

"Thanks again Mrs Novak," Dean called back from the front step of the house, "That pie was delicious. Have a good evening." Dean shrugged his shoulders up, bringing his jacket just a little higher up his neck to keep out the cold. Fall was coming, and it was getting chilly out. Dean made a mental note to find some hunts in sunny California.

Back at the motel, it was time to skip town, "C'mon Sammy, job's done and we're fortunate the police don't give a crap about sketchy motel shootings. Let's hit the road." Dean paced the room over, packing his duffel with a mess of unfolded clothes.

"And sleep in the car? Come on Dean, we have the motel, let's just leave in the morning."

"Nope, you can sleep while I drive, now let's go." Dean flicked the motel light off on his way out the door, leaving Sam to sit in the dark of follow suit.

The boys dropped their bags in the backseat and made comfortable for the long road ahead. Cas was grateful that they weren't aware who they dropped their bags on top of.


	4. Road Trip

Chapter 4

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean's bellow carried an echo in the hollow cavern of the cab. Sam startled awake, half defensive as though attacked.

"Wha-?" Sam's hands were up in front of him, ready to swat an enemy away, but all he found was his brother laughing hysterically.

"You're a riot Sammy." Dean chuckled some more, relaxing in the driver's seat. "We're coming up on a pit stop, need to stop for gas. Then it's your turn to drive, we've only got a few hundred miles to go and we'll be good old California."

"Dean," Sam rolled his eyes while calling his brother's name, "You're only going to California because you got _cold_. We don't even know if there's anything out that way!" Sam rubbed the sleep out from his eyes and focused on the road in front of them, "And besides, you're the one who wanted drive all night, you should be just fine without switching off."

"Yeah right," no matter whose decision it was to drive the night, it was always better to switch off in case they were ever attacked. One sleep deprived hunter was about as useful as a bar rag. "And besides, there's always something to hunt. We'll find something, you'll see."

Dean's idea of a 'close' gassing station was a little off –by just over an hour, even with Dean driving. By the time they arrived Dean had already sat Sam through the entire A side of his favourite Led Zepplin cassette, "Hey, did you know the reason why he wrote Black Dog the way he did was because he wanted to create a song that no one could dance to? Pretty awesome, right?" Dean had every tiny, insignificant fact of that band memorized, a useless pass time.

"Dean," Sam sighed, exasperated, "You've told me that before, and I don't care anymore now than I did then." To think, he could've been sleeping this whole time.

The car rumbled to a stop, "Whatever Sammy, you like it. And hey, could you get some breakfast while I fuel up? I'm starving."

"Me too!"

Sam and Dean exchanged quick glances before looking to the backseat of the Impala. "What the..." Cas was peeking out from the foot space behind the driver's seat, obscured in a dark blanket and a couple of duffle bags. He just smiled –guilt free, and stretched.

"Long car ride, where are we?" Cas' arms dropped to his sides and straightened out the crinkles in his skirt. He lifted himself from the floor to the seat and then out of the car to stretch some more.

"Dean, I thought you brought him home." Sam's voice was tense again, irritation running rampant and undisguised in his tone.

"I did!" Dean answered helplessly, "I even walked him up to the front door! He has a sweet mom, and she makes a great pie."

"Dean, why were you eating pie!" Sam metaphorically threw his hands up in the air, "Whatever, you figure this out, I'm getting food."

Dean looked back at Cas, whose question had gone not only unanswered, but entirely ignored. "Alright, now we've got to pay for your cab fare home, you little pain in the ass."

"No!" Cas protested, having almost forgotten how nearly impossible this man was to deal with, "I want to go with you guys. I want to hunt stuff and not live such a boring, average life."

Dean couldn't help but stare. This scrawny, useless boy in a skirt wanted to throw his life away and start hunting. "You're insane, and I'm not going to let you do it." Dean's answer was firm and absolute, as it was with everyone he encountered who spouted that crap. "No one wants this life, you hear me? There's nothing but pain, misery, and death and there's no way out of it once you've got yourself in it. Do yourself a favour and forget about it."

"But I want to!" Cas replied, "And I want you to teach me. If you don't, I'll have to learn it all the hard way."

Dean just stared at him, he felt like there was a gun to his head. "So either I teach you how to defend yourself and hunt, or you try and hunt anyway without any training and you die, is that it?"

"That's exactly it. You don't want to be responsible for that, do you?" Cas was smiling, playing, but he had no idea the kinds of burdens Dean carried with him. "It'll be fun! You seem to get tired of your partner anyway."

"I thought I told you, he's my brother. And you already know we're not agents, so stop the act." Dean would target anything to not have to answer to the hanging threat. He'd tried to stop Jo, and that didn't work. But he cared about Jo; this little brat on the other hand... Dean still couldn't let get himself killed. "I hate you so much right now. Go get some snacks with Sam."

Cas smiled broadly, "You mean it? That's too awesome! You won't regret it, I'll be good at this." Cas hopped up and down excitedly before hurrying off to the gas station to pick up some snacks.

"I already regret it," Dean sighed and continued fueling up the Impala.

Cas grabbed some pastries, jerky, and a can of Red Bull before joining Sam at the counter. He casually added his items to Sam's pile on the counter just before Sam paid. The clerk looked down at the extra items and then at Sam, drawing an invisible line between Sam and Cas, before scanning them in as well.

"What are you doing?" Sam grit out, getting the feeling that the two of them were coming across as an odd couple to the station clerk.

"Dean said I could come with, this is breakfast." Cas smiled up at Sam. This would be the beginning of the best thing to ever happen to him. So what if Dean didn't like him? He was going to be a freaking _Ghostbuster_! No more dull, boring life. Meatloaf for dinner and pie for dessert no more.

Sam rolled his eyes and clicked his jaw, fighting off the irritation. What the hell was Dean thinking, "Whatever, just get back to the car." Cas gingerly exited the station, and Sam paid for the snacks and gas and exited after. His long strides brought him face to face with his brother, "Is he _really_ coming with? Really?"

"He said he wanted to start hunting," Dean shrugged, as if that answer was going to thwart a raging Sammy.

"No, Dean. We can't take a skinny kid like that with us, no offense."

"Some taken," Cas answered quickly.

"Sam, you know our luck, and now that something's tried to kill Cas and he's with us? The boy's as good as dead, especially if we just let him go off and try and teach himself the ropes. What choice do we have Sam? Take him with and keep him safe or let him go out and die?"

Sam stopped to think about it, the Winchester curse was as really anything else he believed in, but they'd left so many people behind before, why take this one with. Sam eyed Dean sceptically, "Fine."

"Good," Dean answered, not really sure if that was a victory or not. "Cas, get in the car."

"Yessir, captain sir," Cas answered sarcastically, chewing at a piece of jerky. He straightened out from leaning against the Impala and deliberately used the passenger door nearest Dean to reenter the vehicle. Cas crawled onto the seat, and Dean couldn't help the habitual glance up the skirt before re-reminding himself that Cas was still a dude. Cas smiled, knowing he was close to landing Dean, and gave his ass a shake, "You're still staring, huh?"

"Shut up and sit down," Dean retorted before yanking open the passenger door and dropping himself in the seat. "And stay shut up, I need some sleep."

"You could lie down back here with me," Cas offered, anything but innocent.

"No thanks," Dean ruffled up his jacket and put on his sunglasses.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, I needed the discovery and set up in place and it had been a while since I updated


	5. Job Offer

Chapter 5

"Dean, I'm bored," Cas moaned from the backseat, legs pressed firmly into the back of Dean seat. It had been hours since the pit stop, and Cas was simply not used to sitting still. Even the one-hour college classes were borderline unbearable, and those at least had something going on. Out here in the west of the USA there was very little to be seen, other than rolling landscapes. Watching Dean was the next best thing, and bugging him was just too much fun.

"And just what do you want me to do about it?" Dean snapped back, grumpy and more than a little tired. Since discovering Cas in the back seat and letting him come along, there was simply no shutting him up, despite very clear indications that he needed to _sleep_.

"Teach me about the monsters, I should know more about them," Cas' feet dropped to the floor and he excitedly sat upright, propping his elbows up on the front seat's backrest. "Are there really vampires? And werewolves, and bigfoot, and faeries, and unicorns, and elves-"

"_No_," Dean cut him off, "We're not talking fairy tales, we're talking monsters. Elves and middle earth are some basement geek's fantasy, not real work." It never ceased to amaze Dean how perfectly oblivious normal people could be. And that wasn't in a bad way, he wished he could do it too. Walking down a city street without knowing there could be any number of creatures lurking the sewers right beneath his feet, or that any person he walked past could be a shifter in disguise, or a vampire. Ghosts lurked in many neighborhoods and the sheer increase of demon activity in the last few years alone were mind boggling.

"Besides, monster class isn't my thing. That's Sam's gig, he's the teacher," Dean tried shirking responsibility to Sam, but he knew what was coming. No way was 'no' being taken as an answer for the skirted-twerp, and how would the receiver of said responsibility feel? Dean's guess? Bitchy.

"You said you'd teach me!" A simultaneous cry from Cas to Sam's: "This is your doing, leave me out of it."

"Alright, whatever. What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Cas replied firmly, a smug grin plastered on his soft pink lips.

Dean frowned, even in a sleep deprived state he was looking. Or maybe it was because he was sleep deprived that he lacked the mental faculties to stop himself. "You're gonna hafta be a little bit more specific than that."

"Well how can I know what to ask when I don't know what it is that I don't know about?"

"Not my problem."

"You suck."

"Ditto."

The rest of the ride to California was long and uneventful. An event of course is subject to opinion, and the tautological arguments of Cas and Dean that more often than not resulted in petty name calling was hardly an event –it seemed to be their permanent state of existence.

"Alright, pismo beach and all the clams you can eat," Sam announced their arrival at the motel in a mock-jovial voice that quickly dropped back to downright-pissed, "Now shut the hell up and get the hell out of this car."

"Whatever," Cas dropped the argument quickly, "Dean was just fighting a losing battle but wouldn't admit it." Cas hopped out of the back seat, skipping forward a couple of quick steps before spinning back around, causing his skirt to flare up with the twirl. Cas smirked at the eye contact he made with Dean.

"Not a fucking _word_ out of you," Dean grumbled as he snapped his eyes away from Cas'. "Now we get settled and grab a paper –there's got to be something spooky going down in this town."

"Well I would've gone down on you..."

"And you're right, that'd be spooky," Dean shrugged off the blatant advance, how many of those he'd evaded, he'd lost count. Dragging himself from his unrestful position in the passenger seat, dean proceeded to grab their belongings from the trunk; duffle bags of clothes that sorely needed a Laundromat, and a third duffle packed with guns that needed cleaning, rock salt rounds that needed packing, and blades that needed sharpening. Sam does the research and Dean does the maintenance –they make a good team in that regard. But _now_, now there was a third wheel, and extra person to force into their decades old partnership. Dean decided to ignore it, like a man on a cliff's edge staring out at the bridge and deciding he'll burn it once he gets there.

"Alright, we're checked in," Sam walked back to the Impala from the registrar's office, better known as the front desk. He grabbed his dirty clothes bag from Dean and gave his brother the motel room key. "We'll get settled and then head out for food, these can wash while we eat."

"Yeah well, while California may be 'super cool to the homeless' I still don't trust them not to run off with our stuff. We'll grab take out and stake out the cleaners." Dean slammed the trunk closed and locked it up. "After we get settled."

"Hey, you know you guys are really good at ignoring me?" Cas frowned, unappreciative of the third wheel position he was quickly acquiring.

"With any luck I'll get even better at it," Dean retorted quickly. Old fashioned motels were classic for still carrying old metal keys –Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd used one of those fancy swipe cards on a hotel door. The door swung open and to their surprise, the room was already occupied.

"Hello boys," her British accent rolled across the room.

"Bella," Sam stated distastefully, but not yet rude, "What are you doing here? And how'd you even know which room we'd get?"

"Is she a friend of yours? Another hunter?" Cas asked eagerly, finally getting some information on _something_ about their hunting lives.

Whatever conversation that ensued never reached Dean's ears. He was caught in some sort of limbo, was it a djinn? A nightmare or a vision or _what_? '_She's supposed to be dead, Lilith got her, I know she's dead... so then how is she here_?' Dean glanced quickly at Sam, and he didn't know which was weirder –that the dead British girl was suddenly not dead or that Sam thought it was perfectly normal that she was sitting in their motel room.

-"He's not denying it..." Bella was eying Dean, and looked back at Cas, "I never would have guessed it."

"Yeah, he's usually screaming denials at me by now," Cas rolled his hips forward again, an inquisitive grind into Dean's hip to try and grab is attention.

Dean snapped to with a decidedly surprised outburst, "Gah! Get off! Get off!" Dean swung at Cas, not hard, which made it seem almost playful.

Bella and Cas were both laughing, and even Sam couldn't help a snicker, "You ok there Dean? You seem a little lost."

"_I'm_ a little lost!" Dean cried out, confusion getting the better of him, "She's supposed to be dead, this doesn't even make any freaking sense anymore!"

The laughter quickly subsided.

"Dean?" Sam's voice carried a hint of concern, and he wasn't sure Dean was joking.

"I know we're not the best of friends, Dean, but I had no idea your fantastic disreality already wrote me off as dead." Bella sighed, "Anyway, I have work for the two of you."

"What about me?" Cas asked, not one to be forgotten. "Dean's training me, and I want to go with."

Bella eyed Cas, and for all her thought and creative problem solving she still couldn't figure out why Dean Winchester had up and acquired a pupil, a skinny boy in a skirt that he apparently didn't even like. Or he did like, and just wouldn't admit it. "Alright," Bella knew better than to give Dean any power, even if it was as simple as saying 'yes' or 'no' to his prodigy. "I think I'll have a task for you after all." Bella smiled coyly.

"Have you boys ever heard of the 'Heart of the Ocean'?" Bella asked with feigned innocence.

"Like Celine Dion 'My heart will go on and on and on' heart of the ocean?" Dean asked, suspicious of any Hollywood-exaggerated story, even if it was rooted in some kind of reality. "What about it?"

"It's the year 2012, you moron, the 100th anniversary of the RMS Titanic. Not to mention there's an homage voyage for Titanic 2.0 coming up –and they have the necklace."

"And how is that our kind of gig?" Dean crossed his arms, waiting for the catch, but Bella never threw that curve ball.

"It's as simple as that, I'll split the profits for the necklace with you, and we'll be on our merry ways, so you can get back to pretending I'm dead."

Dean was about to say no, about to say 'hell no, you snake in the grass, get the hell out' but to his surprise, before any of those words could get out of his mouth and into the public realm, Dean heard Sam –of all people, his _brother_, quickly agreeing to the terms.

"What the hell Sammy?"

"Dean, think about it. We need the money, we live hand to mouth and now we have your girlfriend tagging along," Sam always thought in logical terms, and sometimes that alone was enough to drive a guy crazy.

"Fine, what kind of a plan do you have?" Dean folded, and not two seconds later his face pulled a funny scrunched expression, "And he's _not_ my girlfriend."

Bella smiled, "We have some time to prepare, but we'll be going as couples. I'll go with Sam, and I have some extra dresses that would just look fantastic in."


	6. Blurred Reality

Chapter 6

"Dean," Sam's face was twisted up into one of those expression's again, the sort that shows a bit of frustration for his lack of understanding, but mostly a whole lot of pitying concern, "What's going on with you?" Sam had pulled dean outside, leaving Bella and Cas to go through Bella's collection of evening gowns and find a good fit for the Titanic replica trip.

"Do we need to talk about it?" Dean rolled his eyes, trying his damndest to shake off the impending 'moment.'

"Yeah, we do. Back there you were serious, about Bella, about thinking she was dead. You looked like you'd seen a ghost, and I don't mean like a spirit that needs put to rest but like 'ghost from my past' ghost." Sam sighed, the first few steps were always the hardest, getting Dean to that point where he'd finally share something, _anything_. "Look, I'm just worried, ok?"

"Well don't be. You want to know why I'm freaked out? Fine, I'll tell you why," Dean's posture was defensive, he was certain he was right, but Sam just seemed so completely oblivious, and Bella was definitely real. "She's supposed to be dead, I heard it in her voice on the phone, we found all the clues, and Lilith's hounds ripped her to shreds. There's no way she's back, it's just impossible. And what bothers me most is that I'm the only one who seems to remember this."

"That's because it never happened, Dean." There was that face again, that look of pitying the crazy person. No wonder Sam always felt like some kind of freak when Dean was worrying about him, it's hard to get any other meaning out of that look.

"Then let's drop it," Dean didn't wait for the ok, the conversation was over when he said it was over, and now it was time to act like reality made sense and figure out what was going on here alone; something just wasn't right.

Sam sighed, maybe this was part of Dean's deal –losing his grip on reality. Whatever was going on in his brother's head, Sam was certain that Dean thoroughly believed it, even over and above the plain physical evidence right in front of him. Bella was in one piece and most obviously alive, and Sam had no recollection of any of the events Dean was citing. And what about mentioning Lilith? Was that a manifestation of Dean's own fear of being torn to shreds? Sam made a mental note to keep an eye on Dean, he probably wasn't entirely up to a hunt at the moment but that never stopped him. Flying solo was so much harder when Dean thought he was actually helping.

"Dean!" Cas squeaked, spinning happily in a long, slinky black dress. Cas trotted up to Dean's side, taking his hand after entwining their arms. "Don't we look fantastic together? What do you think of the dress?"

Dean stared at him blankly, "It's a V-cut and you have no chest."

"But that cut takes away from the breadth of his shoulders," Bella added merit to her choice of wardrobe for Cas, "Although they are already fairly slight, the added angular front gives him more of a figure, and most high class women don't have much of a chest unless they get surgery. The tighter fit shows off his hips. Isn't he just adorable?" Every word was laced with a subtle sarcastic venom, and Dean couldn't help but shoot her a quick glare for the teasing.

"I guess," Dean looked Cas over again, following the points Bella had made –and she was correct, the dress hugged those slender hips quite nicely, and _again_, showed off that delicate ass.

Cas smirked, "I thought your concern was with the _front_ of my dress." –busted again.

"It was," that was Dean's story, and he was sticking to it, but there was still no denying that this kid had a body worth lusting after. If you were into that kind of thing, which Dean most certainly was not. Definitely not.

Sam stretched, accompanied by a tell-tale yawn as he walked across the motel room to his bed, "Alright, enough chit chat for one day. I'm going to bed." Sam dragged the covers down the bed and shot Dean a look, "And before you say a word –he's _your_ responsibility and _your_ date, so he's sleeping in _your_ bed. End of story."

"Sounds good to me," Cas purred, rubbing slightly against Dean before heading back towards the bathroom to change out of the evening gown. "I'll be right out, _bedmate_." Cas called back to Dean before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

"Dammit, can't I sleep in the car?"

A/N: Sorry for the short update, I'm trying to come out with them more often, and they tend to get kind of short. The confusion over Bella and reality is intentional, and I'm not ignoring Cas, this is a Destiel fic, it's just taking a while getting there.


	7. Squabbles and Snuggles

Chapter 7

Going to bed would be a nightmare. Paying for the hotel meant sleeping in a real bed, and that was the nicest thing, even if those beds were skeevy motel beds and god knows what happened on them. And sometimes they were lumpy as hell... but better than cramping up in the Impala. Dean loved his baby, but sleeping in her was just not a permanent solution to this problem.

And so after much hesitation and time wasting, Dean found himself in bed with the skirt-wearing individual that he so very badly wanted _not_ to be in bed with. Dean groaned –silently, to ensure that this outburst wasn't heard and misinterpreted by any other party in the room, which would only invite another argument. What they had left to argument after the car ride, Dean had no idea. _Why did Sam get a bed to himself? And where the hell had Bella gone, couldn't she have taken the cross-dressing fiend with her? _Well, she may actually be a shifter, or a ghost, or a ghoul... or maybe a djinn illusion, thus explaining why Sam finds her being alive to be completely normal.

"I'm cold."

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. Cas had snuggled up next to him –right next to him, leg hooked over Dean's and... and... Dean didn't want to think about the 'and.' "What the hell?"

"I told you: I am cold," the words were punctuating and staccato-like in their delivery: very matter-of-fact, "So I got closer. You're like a walking furnace, you're so hot." Cas nuzzled his face into Dean's chest, absent-mindedly rolling his hips forward against Dean's side –Dean did the only thing he could logically think to do: flip out; which, in hindsight, had very little to do with logic –nothing, actually.

In a flail of arms and legs Dean had manage to throw Cas from the bed while catapulting himself off the other side, "C'mon! Do you _have_ to do that? Really?" Dean stood at the bedside, glaring over the empty surface of rumpled sheets to the wide-eyed man on the floor of the other side. "You're in the same bed as me, you don't have to be so... so..." Dean waved his arms around, as though it would explain the missing sentiment or somehow jog the right words, "so 'touchy-feely,' capiche?"

Cas' bottom lip started to protrude –just slightly, into the most adorable pout. "But I-"

"I don't care," Dean interrupted, averting his gaze to the bedside table and holding up an objective hand to the entire situation. "I don't want to hear about how cold you are, or how close you wanna be or anything else that might lead to anything between the two of us. Just get back in the bed, stay on your side, and get some goddamn sleep." Dean could hear Sam snickering on the other bed, trying hard to pretend like he was asleep but really he was endlessly entertained by his brother's torment. Figures. "Keep laughing, chuckles."

"Oh, I'm laughing," Sam assured him. "Hey Dean, did you ever stop to think that this might be, oh I don't know, just desserts? Karma?" Sam burst into a fit of snickers and choked back laughs.

"You saying that the trickster has something to do with this?"

"What? No, I mean you always womanizing, and then you womanize a man, who clings. I think it's fitting, that's all."

"And here I thought we might have an explanation for all this 'crazy.'" Dean dropped himself back onto the bed, the back of his band falling against his forehead in a dramatic display of exasperation. He faintly felt the bed dip lower to his side, and turned his head to face Cas, "No funny business, you hear me? Hand off."

"Ok, ok," Cas' hands came up in surrender, "just cool your jets. It's not like I'm an alien or something." Cas seriously didn't understand this guy's problem, of course he _understood_ that Dean was homophobic, that Dean didn't really want anything to do with him, while wanting to keep him alive on the general principle of life having intrinsic value. That Cas understood –what he didn't understand was why Dean fought it so hard, all those sidelong glances, appraising stares, and eye-sexing that he denied doing. Dean didn't strike Castiel as the kind of guy who fought what felt good.

Sam stared in awe, and fought back the urge to laugh out loud. This moment needed to be preserved. Sam trained his phone's camera, taking into focus the spectacle before him. His uptight, homophobic brother half covered by the bed sheet, leg draped over his skirted companion with his arm possessively wrapped around the smaller man's torso, face nuzzled into Castiel's chest. If Sam didn't know better, he'd say Dean looked downright content. With a fake shudder sfx, Sam's phone sealed the image into digital history, never to be lived down.

"Hey, Cas," Sam whispered, moving to Castiel's side of the bed. The black haired man 'hmm'd in reply, sounding almost catlike and he snuggled right back into Dean's arms. "Cas," Sam insisted again, nudging the man's shoulder, "you'll want to be awake for this."

Castiel's eyes fluttered open, his vision slowly focusing as he sought out the source of the whispers, "Sam?" He managed out, voice as bleary as his fogged morning brain, "See what?" Cas followed Sam's finger point, directed to the bed beside Castiel –where Dean was lying, happily slotted against Cas' side. Castiel's eyes lit up, "You _**do**_ care!"

The exclamation shocked Dean right out of sleep and right out of bed. He landed with a heavy thud on the motel floor, frantically scrambling for the knife on instinct, finding purchase under his pillow. Dean brandished the blade, still collecting himself from the wakeup call. "What the hell?"

Cas was not a normal person –a normal person would be terrified that someone pulled a knife on them. Not Cas tho, Cas was apparently more preoccupied with his own thoughts to recognize mortal danger, as demonstrated by his flinging himself onto Dean in a full on hug, kissing his cheek repeatedly –completely with sound effects, 'mwa.'

"Cas," Dean managed an even voice, though his face was tense and he swore he felt his eyebrow twitch. "Would you get off? We've discussed this."

"But you were so cute!" Cas protested, flinging a leg over Dean's thighs, straddling his lap.

Dean wasn't sure which was more pertinent –Cas's relentless advances or being described as cute. "What make me cute?" The advances were commonplace already, and Dean grabbed Cas by the hips and lifted him off, placing the smaller man on the floor next to him.

"This," Sam angled his phone screen so Dean could see it. Sam timed Dean's reaction, watching his brother's face contort in confusion as he made out the image in front of him. Sam pulled his phone back before Dean could snatch it.

"Delete that!"

"Nope, too good to lose. Bella called, she said she'd be here in about an hour."


End file.
